They approached the front gates.
He curled his large body in a cat-like circle, but it didn’t help. He was cold. His long teeth tapped in erratic Morse Code.
Even his breath was too cold. There was no way for him to warm up.
And it was all too cold. Always too cold.
His fear thawed into anger.
The gates exploded into toothpick-sized shards.
“Oh.” said Barbara. “That takes care of that obstacle.”
“I fear I will lose control. I might transform into what I really am. It might be all for the best if you return to the car. I don’t want you to see my truth.”
Barbara thought it over. “But you might need my help.”
“Not if I transform. If you won’t return to the car, please stay away from me.”
“What are you afraid of?”
“Your son is a freak.” “He should be locked up.” “He should be killed.” “Do you know what your son did?” “Look at what your son destroyed.” “Your son killed my little girl.”
“Sammy, you can’t keep doing this. Just stop. Please.” His mother cried and a nearby jar of milk soured. “I don’t want them to take you away from me. “
“They must never know our truth. I f they did, they would tear us apart. They would lock us away. Sammy, they would kill us.”
“I fear many things, Ms. Addleston.” He strode through the demolished front gate. “You take the left path. I will take the right.”
“Be careful, Sammy.”
“And the same to you, Ms. Addleston.”